


Quality of Convictions

by EvensDramaticShenanigans



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Curses, First Meetings, Harry Potter AU, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/EvensDramaticShenanigans
Summary: The hospital wing looks exactly the same as it did two days ago, Steve notes. There are a few beds that had been full that are now empty and a few beds that had been empty that are now full, but other than that its the same high, arching ceilings, the same teal privacy curtains, and the same wrought iron, candle yielding chandeliers above.Madam Pomfrey is the same too, if not a little more exasperated when she sees Steve this time. “Steven,” she tuts, rushing to his side with her wand already drawn and a healing charm on her lips. Her brow furrows when she doesn’t immediately see any jelly-fingers, broken bones, or mysterious goo oozing from places it shouldn’t be, and she fixes Steve with a curious look. “What’s happened to you this time?” She questions sternly, quirking a brow and setting her wrists against her hips.Or, the one where Steve and Bucky meet in the hospital wing





	Quality of Convictions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hiiii!! So it's been a hot second since I've posted something! (Almost a month omg) but I'm back with a little somethin somethin I whipped up today!! I've also got a longer fic I'm super excited about in the works so stay tuned for that one!! (It's also Stucky!)
> 
> There is a definite lack of Harry Potter AUs in this fandom, at least for this pairing and I’ve been desperately searching high and low for a good prompt to use for a fic in this verse and I was chilling in the shower just shampooing my hair when BAM I thought of this one ask that’s been sitting in my inbox for a while now and oh my god the ideas just poured right out. So god bless the shower, honestly. Lmao. I definitely want to write more Harry Potter AUs, so this is just the beginning!
> 
> Anyways, as stated, this is for the lovely tumblr anon that sent me the prompt: "Steve and Bucky are strangers. Bucky gets injured and ends up in the hospital where he meets Steve" This turned out to be much longer than a little tumblr drabble so I'm posting it here! This might not have been exactly what you had in mind, sweet anon, but I've been dying to write a Harry Potter AU lately and I got the idea and I just went with it! I hope you like it!!
> 
> The title comes from a quote Remus Lupin says in The Deathly Hallows: "It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of one's followers." So thanks Moony, my dear.
> 
> Annnd last but not least, this was unbetaed and written between the hours of 12 and 2 am lmao so all mistakes are my own and you can blame my sleep deprived self for them :))
> 
>  
> 
> Now, without further ado, enjoy!!

The hospital wing looks exactly the same as it did two days ago, Steve notes. There are a few beds that had been full that are now empty and a few beds that had been empty that are now full, but other than that its the same high, arching ceilings, the same teal privacy curtains, and the same wrought iron, candle yielding chandeliers above.

Madam Pomfrey is the same too, if not a little more exasperated when she sees Steve this time. “Steven,” she tuts, rushing to his side with her wand already drawn and a healing charm on her lips. Her brow furrows when she doesn’t immediately see any jelly-fingers, broken bones, or mysterious goo oozing from places it shouldn’t be, and she fixes Steve with a curious look. “What’s happened to you this time?” She questions sternly, quirking a brow and setting her wrists against her hips. 

Steve doesn’t answer right away, just clenches his jaw tighter and tries to breathe calmly through his probably broken nose— each breathe jarring it painfully enough for him to wince every time. He’s sure he’s already a lovely shade of green, and his body is shaking like a leaf as he tries to hold back the slimey belch that’s clawing— or creeping, rather— up his throat. A sudden wave of nausea rolls over Steve and his hand flies up to cover his mouth as his lips part against his will. An intense heave wracks through Steve, hard enough to have him doubling over, and an ugly sound spills from his mouth. As does a long, slimy slug that plops right into the palm of his hand before splattering to the floor in front of him, a trail of viscous green-hued goo dripping from Steve’s lips and hands. 

“Oh goodness!” Madam Pomfrey exclaims, and within seconds she summons a wooden bucket and shoves it into Steve’s arms before ushering him towards one of the beds— his usual bed, actually. At this point, Steve’s almost completely convinced that Madam Pomfrey keeps the first bed on the left clear specifically for him, just in case he makes an appearance in the hospital wing. “Who did this to you?” She demands, pushing Steve and the bucket onto the bed before swishing her wand through the air to summon the necessary materials to start fixing Steve up. 

Again, rather than giving a proper answer, Steve ducks his head into the bucket and spews up another slug. He lets out a long groan and lets the edge of the bucket dig into his forehead for a few beats before shakily lifting his head.

Madam Pomfrey narrows her eyes and purses her lips as she gives Steve a quick once over. “Was it that nettlesome Rumlow boy again?” She asks, peering more closely at his crooked nose. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s come to Madam Pomfrey with a broken nose thanks to Brock Rumlow, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time either, no matter how many times Madam Pomfrey lectured him about getting into fights. 

Steve manages one quick nod before another wave of queasiness hits him and two more slugs come up, along with a nasty clump of slime.

“Something needs to be done about that boy before he puts the whole school in here,” Madam Pomfrey says. “And you need to stop picking fights with him,” she adds sternly. “You’ve got to learn how to keep your nose out of other people’s business, Steven. You’re in here almost every single day, and for something new each time!  _ And  _ on top of all those pesky muggle ailments too.” She exclaims, throwing her hands up. “You’ve really got to start being more careful, Steven. One of these days you’re going to end up getting yourself seriously injured, or worse,  _ killed _ ,” she lectures, and it’s nothing Steve hasn’t heard from her before. She tells him this every single time, but it never seems to really click. “God knows that sorting hat didn’t make a mistake putting you in Gryffindor. Just a horde of overzealous children throwing themselves headfirst into trouble without thinking of the consequences. All to prove their bravery, no less,” she clucks, shaking her head exasperatedly, puttering around the bedside table until she picks up a small parcel of what looks like treacle fudge.  With quick, nimble fingers she unwraps the parcel enough for one end of the fudge to poke out and she pries one of Steve’s hands off of the bucket so she can push the fudge into it. “Eat this,” she instructs. “It’ll stop the slugs. I can’t fix up your nose until you’ve finished expelling slugs.”

The first attempt Steve makes at taking a bite is rudely interrupted by another disgusting belch, and the slug nearly misses the bucket and lands right in his lap. Luckily he’s able to jerk the bucket to the left in time for the slug to ricochet off the side and into the bottom. Steve groans, but is thankful that Madam Pomfrey has left his side to tend to the other patients and at least allow him to keep the little dignity he has left by letting him puke in relative privacy. He’s well aware of the buggy eyes of the small first year directly across the way from him following his every move, but there’s not much he can do about it. It’s not like he can tell the kid off for staring when he’s too busy burping up slugs and slime. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , the nausea passes long enough for Steve to bring the fudge up to his mouth and take a tiny bite of it. Almost as soon as he swallows it he feels a warmth spreading through his stomach, but the curse isn’t entirely lifted as he throws up another slug— this one extra big and extra slimy. God, Steve can’t wait until it’s all over. 

Madam Pomfrey stops by at one point to check up on Steve and see if he’s stopped spewing slugs yet, but before Steve can attempt to use his voice to tell her he’s nearly there, another slug explodes out and forcefully hits the side of the bucket. Madam Pomfrey wrinkles her nose and sets a goblet of pumpkin juice on the bedside table for “when the slugs have stopped” because “I’m not going anywhere near your face if you’ve got slug breath.” 

After that it takes Steve a solid few minutes to work his way through the entire piece of treacle fudge, having to pause every so often for a new slug to pass. Thankfully those occurrences are slowing greatly, and he’s already beginning to feel better. Steve drops the empty wrapper onto the bedside table and he’s about to call for Madam Pomfrey when someone else beats him to it. 

“Madam Pomfrey,” a husky female voice chimes out, catching Steve’s and Madam Pomfrey’s attention. She’s loud enough that a few other patients, including the bug eyed first year, look towards the front of the hospital wing as well.

Standing in the entrance is a petite redhead with sharp features that are screwed up with worry. Her green and silver robes are fussed up thanks to the boy hanging off her neck, which—  _ oh _ . Shit. That can’t be good.

He’s got one of his arms around the redhead’s neck, her own wrapped around his waist to help him stay upright, and his other arm is draped around a blonde boy’s neck. Both their robes match in Hufflepuff colors, the only difference being that the boy in the middle’s robes have a long stain of blood down the front. 

Before Steve can see where the blood is coming from, Madam Pomfrey hurries over, effectively blocking Steve’s view. She’s speaking to the three in a hushed tone, most likely demanding what on earth happened to the boy. The conversation doesn’t last long, however, and suddenly Madam Pomfrey is rushing the three of them over to the bed right beside Steve, shouting out directions for the redhead and the blonde as they struggle to help their friend onto the bed. 

Madam Pomfrey is standing on the right side of the bed, her wand flicking quickly through the air as she mutters charms and summons under her breath. Several bottles and vials whisk their way through the air towards the bedside table where they land neatly. Immediately Madam Pomfrey starts rifling through them, twisting them to read the labels and find the precise antidote. 

From his perch on the neighboring bed, Steve tries to peek through the space between her arms or around her head, but she keeps moving, lifting new jars or bending over the boy to get a closer look at his injuries, but always blocking Steve’s view.

Since they’re so close, however, Steve is able to hear bits and pieces of the conversation between Madam Pomfrey and the redhead and the blonde. 

“— either of you there when it happened?”

“Not when it happened, ma’am,” the blonde responds. 

“When we got there he was already on the ground like this,” the redhead adds.

Madam Pomfrey clicks her tongue and nods. “Alright. It’s a good thing you got there when you did. Any other hexes or curses on top of this one and there could have been serious consequences,” she says. “You two may leave now. If you’d like I can send an owl when Mr. Barnes is healed and you’re welcome to visit him then.” 

The redhead nods and loops her arm through one of the blonde’s. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” she says before the two of them make their way back towards the entrance.

“Mr. Barnes?” Madam Pomfrey asks softly. All Steve can hear is a quiet groan and a barely there hum of attention. Madam Pomfrey waits a few moments as though she expects the boy to say something else. It surprises Steve when he actually does.

“M’head hurts,” the boy— Barnes— gripes, and Steve sees one of his hands move up, presumably to touch his face, though Madam Pomfrey is still in the way. He hears a whimper and a few sharp intakes of breath, each more rapid than the last as if they were leading into a panic attack. Steve can only imagine what could have happened to Barnes to pull a reaction like that from him.

“You’re alright, Mr. Barnes,” Madam Pomfrey reassures, touching the boy’s arm to calm him down. “This is an easy fix, I’ve just got to fetch you some Skele-Gro for the bones in your hand and then I’ll perform the countercurse,” she informs. “I’ll just be a minute,” she says and then sweeps away towards a locked cabinet towards the back of the hospital wing.

It’s then that Steve is finally able to get a good look at his bed neighbor.

And, “Holy shit! What happened to you?” He blurts, surprising both himself and the boy next to him. Immediately, Steve flushes hotly and ducks his head. He himself hates when people ask him that sort of question, so he feels incredibly rude for asking such an invasive, personal question to this complete stranger. In his defense, it’s pretty hard not to wonder what the hell happened to Barnes. Most of his head looks about three sizes too large for his body; his left eye is bulging, his nose is far too big for his face, so is his right ear, and his chin and cheek are so bloated that his lips are pushed out. It’s utterly grotesque, is what it is, and Steve finds himself struggling to look away even though he knows how rude it is to stare.

Steve opens his mouth, about to try and scramble out an apology for his blunt question and insist that Barnes absolutely doesn’t have to answer, but the beginnings of a grin start to curl onto the Barnes’s busted lip, and then  _ he’s _ opening  _ his _ mouth to speak.

“It was Rumlow,” he answers simply, his voice smooth and deep. It surprises Steve how attractive it sounds coming from a face so completely the opposite. (Though, if the voice is anything to go off of, Steve can only hope that Barnes’s face is just as attractive when its not larger than life.)

He’s also surprised to hear Rumlow’s name. Well, he is and he isn’t. It’s not surprising that Brock Rumlow attacked another student. That happens far too often for Steve’s liking. It is surprising, however, that he went after someone so soon after he attacked Steve. 

“Damn, he must be on some sort of power trip today,” Steve comments, shaking his head in disdain. His expression twists up into one of disgust, and he immediately winces. He forgot that Madam Pomfrey hasn’t fixed is nose quite yet. “He doesn’t usually go after other students right away.”

Barnes lets out a low laugh. “Aw, come on, you think that little of me, do ya?” He asks, grinning wickedly despite the curse. “I’m no target of his,” Barnes explains. “Nah, I saw what he and his pals did to you— I’ve seen what they’ve done to you before too— and I wasn’t about to let ‘em get away with it this time,” he says, pressing his lips together briefly.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He could feel the way his cheeks grew even hotter than before, this time more from anger than embarrassment. “You saw him curse me then?” He questions.

Barnes nods. “The slug vomiting charm,” he confirms. “ I’ve been hit with it before too. Not a pleasant one, I’ll tell ya that. You seem to be doing better now. No slimy friends coming up anymore, right?” 

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Madam Pomfrey gave me some treacle fudge. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat it without thinking of slugs now,” he grimaced, and Barnes laughed.

“What the hell did they hit you with?” Steve suddenly asks, unable to hide his curiosity. He figures since he told Barnes about his curse that Barnes might as well share about his own. Steve hasn’t seen anything like this before, and if this is a curse Rumlow has in his arsenal then Steve thinks it’s pretty important he knows as much as he can about it should  _ he _ ever get hit by the same curse.

“ _ Engorgio Skullus _ ,” Barnes answers. “The skull swelling charm. Get hit with this and your head blows up like a fuckin’ balloon,” he explains.

“Mr. Barnes,” Madam Pomfrey interrupts, appearing at Barnes’s bedside. She’s got a white bottle shaped like a skeleton in her hand, and Steve sees the grimace on Barnes’s face when he spots it. She sets it on the bedside table and pulls out her wand. “This won’t hurt,” she says, raising her wand. “ _ Redactum Skullus _ ,” she mutters and slowly but surely, Barnes’s head starts to shrink back down to normal sized. 

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Barnes says gratefully, touching his face with his right hand as it deflates. 

“Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Barnes. We’ve still got to regrow the bones in your left hand,” she says, and busies herself measuring out the proper amount of Skele-Gro for Barnes to drink. Once the goblet is poured, she passes it to Barnes. “Drink up,” she commands.

Hesitantly, Barnes accepts the goblet from Madam Pomfrey and raises it to his lips. He makes a face at it before knocking his head back and downing the whole thing in one go. 

“Atta boy,” Madam Pomfrey says, taking the goblet from Barnes when he finishes. “You know well how that works,” she adds, an unspoken warning in her voice. 

Barnes nods firmly and settles back against the headboard of his bed. Steve can see the way he’s gritting his teeth already as the Skele-Gro starts working its magic. 

After that Madam Pomfrey turns towards Steve, her eyes zeroing in on the wooden bucket that’s been laid to the side. She lifts an eyebrow. “Finished?”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve replies and watches as Madam Pomfrey flicks her wand and the bucket disappears. 

“Now for that nose,” she says, lifting her wand and pointing it at Steve’s nose. He doesn’t bother closing his eyes this time; he’s been through it enough that he’s used to the odd, tingly feeling and the slight pinch he feels before his nose is good as new— or, as close to new as it can be at this point. “ _ Episkey _ .”

Once she finishes with Steve’s nose, she levels Steve and Barnes with a pointed look.“Try not to get into any trouble while you heal, boys.” And the she bustles away, over to help the bug eyed first year that had been staring at Steve earlier.

Steve pulls his attention from the first year and turns it back onto Barnes to find him already looking back.

On his face, Barnes is wearing a crooked grin. And with his head now back to regular size, that grin doesn’t look so ridiculous. In fact, Steve’s heart jumps against his ribcage, and he’s positive it has nothing to do with his heart murmur and everything to do with Barnes’s smile.

The rest of Barnes’s face is just as lovely as his smile. His eyes, not giant or popping out anymore, are a beautiful blue grey, and Steve takes note that his nose isn’t as big as the curse led him to believe it would be. His lips, not squished between his chin and his cheeks, look soft and inviting and so so pink. He’s got longer hair too, and Steve loves the way it frames Barnes’ face, some of the shorter strands falling in front of his eyes. 

“If you thought I looked bad then, you shoulda seen the other guys when I was done with ‘em,” Barnes says, pulling Steve from his appreciation and back to reality. 

Steve quirks a curious brow at Barnes. “What’d you do to them?” 

“I managed to hit Rumlow with a Stinging Hex and a Jelly Legs Curse too,” he answers, beaming with pride. 

Steve can’t help the grin of his own that pulls the corners of his lips up, up, up until he’s smiling so wide his eyes are starting to squint. It isn’t everyday that Brock Rumlow gets his ass handed to him, and Steve plans to fully rejoice in this. 

“It’s a shitty thing, what they do,” Barnes says, his smile fading a bit as he turns more serious. “No one should have to deal with assholes like them. I don’t like bullies and it was about damn time I got off my ass and did something about it. I shouldn’t ‘a waited so long to do something.” Barnes drops his head, as though disappointed with himself. 

“But you did do something,” Steve reminds him, “and doing something at all is pretty damn great. All it takes is one person to stand up to a bully, just one time. And when people see others standing up to the assholes then they wanna stand up to them too. S’like a chain reaction,” he explains. 

“I suppose you’re right. I’m done sitting back though,” Barnes says. “Rumlow ain’t gonna get away with hurtin’ anyone else anymore. ‘Specially not you,” he declares, a soft expression settling over his features as he smiles at Steve. “I may not be a Gryffindor punk like you, but I can be reckless for a good cause sometimes too,” he tacks on with a wink.

“Jerk,” Steve mumbles, but is smiling nonetheless. “M’Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers,” he introduces and sticks out his hand.

Barnes beams and slides his hand into Steve’s, giving his a firm shake. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Well Bucky Barnes,” Steve starts, his smile so wide it almost hurts. “I now pronounce you an honorary Gryffindor. Let the recklessness begin.”

  
  


Steve clutches his History of Magic book to his chest and hoists the bag higher onto his shoulder so it doesn’t slip off. He’s alone as he walks through the courtyard— nothing he isn’t used to. It’s a beautiful day out, all bright and sunny, not a single cloud in the sky. Steve’s just thinking to himself how nice it would be to find a nice tree to spread a blanket under and get some fresh air while he studies when he spots him across the grass.

Brock Rumlow. Standing there with his eyes already glued on Steve, staring him down with a mean edge to his look. It isn’t until Steve meets his eyes that Rumlow starts stalking across the lawn, carelessly bumping into a few people as he goes.

An uneasy shiver runs down Steve’s spine, but this isn’t anything he hasn’t dealt with before. It’s been a few days since he’s seen Madam Pomfrey; she’s probably wondering how he is. Maybe he’d get a chance to let her know later.

Suddenly an arm drops around Steve’s shoulders, startling him. When he peels his eyes off of Rumlow and focuses them on the figure on his left he can’t stop the gooey smile from blooming across his lips.

“Hiya, Steve,” Bucky chirps, ducking down to press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek. 

“Hi, Buck,” Steve replies, looping his arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling him into his side. 

Steve lets his eyes flicker back towards Rumlow and he almost laughs out when he sees the man frozen in place. Even this far away, Steve can see how wide Rumlow’s eyes are and the fear that shimmers in them. Steve has to bite down on his lip to stop from smirking.

Bucky, on the other hand, isn’t bothering to hide his smirk. It’s covering his face from cheek to cheek and he chuckles to himself as he lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers in Rumlow’s direction, as if challenging him to do something.

Rumlow does nothing. Instead, he turns on his heel and starts heading back towards his group of friends where he picks up his bag and makes for inside, where Steve and Bucky are decidedly  _ not _ .

“So, how ya feel about studying outside today?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Come say [hi](http://evensdramaticshenanigans.tumblr.com/)! :)


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